


Will We Die, Just a Little?

by Lunas_Secret_Lover



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fan theory, Fantastic Beasts, Fiction, Gay, Grindeldore, Harry Potter - Freeform, Love, M/M, Short, Yaoi, lewt, neta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 13:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8981983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunas_Secret_Lover/pseuds/Lunas_Secret_Lover
Summary: Why did Newt have such a strange reaction when Grindelwald said those words to him? The story of Leta, Newt and Grindelwald. Or, seven times Newt was faced with a phrase and once more unexpectedly.





	

“Will we die, just a little?” Leta asked.  They were five years old and playing on a toy broom stolen from her sister.  Leta’s eyes were huge with worry, and her black curls bobbed close to her head as she turned to look at Newt.  Despite his shyness on the outside, his thirst for adventure overpowered him even at five.

 

“No, Leta, we won’t die even a little.  Let’s fly!”  Giggling, he pulled her onto the broom and pushed them five feet into the air as she shrieked, partly in glee and partly in terror.  

 

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“Will we die, just a little?” Leta asked.  They were seven and Newt’s family was moving away.  Inseparable as they had always been, the idea of being apart even for days at a time was terrifying. Newt clung to her hand tightly and stared into her huge brown eyes with his own blue ones.

 

“Just a little, perhaps, but when I see you again I will come back to life,” he said in the solemn way that only children can. He hugged her tightly, fearful that he would never see her again now that he lived a five minute walk away instead of next door.  She hugged him back, her sharp fingernails digging into his skin as she did so.

 

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“Will we die just a little?” Leta asked. It was their joke now, but her tone was sad.  They were eleven.  She had been sorted into Slytherin and Newt was sorted into Hufflepuff.  Leta held his hand in front of the house hourglasses tightly as though afraid he would vanish if he was released, the colored jewels reflecting patterns of light onto her face.

 

“Maybe we will,” Newt said softly. “In the way that we die a little with every skin cell we lose and every hair that falls out.  We’ll become something new, together.  Perhaps we can live just a little.”  He was shorter than her now, but he leaned up to kiss her cheek nonetheless, blushing as he did so.  She put a hand up to hold his face to her cheek, forever if necessary.

 

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“Will we die, just a little?” Leta asked.  They were thirteen.  Newt and Leta had ventured into the Forbidden Forest alone to look for bowtruckles and come across a centaur, who stared at them from several feet away.  The shadows of the trees fell across him, making him look mysterious.  Newt was Leta’s height now, and threw an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him.

 

“Not today, Leta.  Centaurs don’t eat people,” he answered, causing her to laugh.  The sound was like a bell, cold and clear, and free, contained by nothing and no one. Just the way Leta was, and he loved her for it.  They left the forest after finding their bowtruckles, keeping one tucked away in Newt’s robes.

 

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“Will we die, just a little?” Leta asked.  They were seventeen.  Leta had caused an accident with a hippogryph that had nearly killed a classmate of theirs.  Not that Newt had particularly liked that classmate, but still, Leta was to blame.  Her voice trembled.  She looked up at him with pleading eyes, her face pained.

 

“If I must die just a little for you, I will,” Newt said bravely, as he contemplated what he must do.  “I’ll blame this on me, Leta.  Your family would kill you if you were expelled.”

 

Leta’s eyes welled up with tears and she kissed him hard, nearly knocking him onto the snowy ground by the Game Keeper’s hut.  He kissed her back, letting her fill his mind and his heart, and melt his fear.

 

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“Will we die just a little?” Leta asked.  They were nineteen.  Leta was sobbing, barely able to make her words heard over her tears.

 

“I will die just a little,” Newt said flatly.  “I love you, Leta LeStrange.  And this kills a little of me, you know.”

 

“I know,” she whispered, straightening her wedding veil over her eyes.  “I don’t want this.” 

 

“Neither do I,” he said bitterly.  “Don’t do this.”

 

“I must,” she said sadly, leaving the room to marry the man her family chose for her.

 

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“Will we die, just a little?” Leta said.  They were twenty-one and she had written him from her home in London.  She was unhappy, and missed him every day, she said.  As much as Newt tried to forget, he loved her still.  He never wrote back, though.  Leta could never move on if he kept in contact.  The words echoed in his head, though, nonetheless.  _ Will we die, just a little?   _ Maybe they already had.

 

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Newt was older now. Wiser, some would say but he wouldn’t.  Leta still crossed his mind sometimes.  He had just watched a child die before his eyes, again, and helped capture a heartless dark wizard who had terrorized England.  His glance was triumphant as they led Grindelwald away, the blond man not bothering to struggle, a mad half smile on his eyes as he turned to face Newt.  His blue-grey eyes glinted madly as he tilted his face up to mutter to Newt: “Will we die, just a little?”


End file.
